


Welcome to Ishgard

by KazueEmiko



Series: Fire Emblem x Final Fantasy XIV Collection [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Fantasy XIV Fusion, Battle, Dragons, F/F, Final Fantasy XIV Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Magic, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazueEmiko/pseuds/KazueEmiko
Summary: After a tragic event in Ul'dah, both Byleth's and Ingrid's Light Party must traverse to Ishgard for refuge. They soon meet unexpected allies and, most importantly, a past some Warriors of Light cannot run away from.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Fire Emblem x Final Fantasy XIV Collection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631266
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	Welcome to Ishgard

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this OS collection is becoming more and more... of a universe of its own... There's so much I want to flesh out and introduce other Fire Emblem characters into the story... Anyway, this OS is a follow-up to the previous works so far. I hope you enjoy this! I had a ton of fun writing this. Spoilers for the end of ARR in Final Fantasy XIV since we are now entering into the Heavensward patch for this OS. 
> 
> Many thanks to Aranelinn for beta-ing this work!

Snow had always fallen at Coerthas Western Highlands, and there never seemed to be an end to it, hilltop after hilltop of whiteness. Blizzards whipped and froze those unfortunate souls, citizens throughout the land contracting frostbites and chronic ailments. The mortality rates climbed to unfathomable levels. After the Seventh Umbral Calamity, the land was uninhabitable, its citizens having fled or froze to death. Only a small number of soldiers from Ishgard remain stationed at Falcon’s Nest between Coerthas Western Highlands and Ishgard.

Sylvain sneezed. Then, he rubbed his arms, his teeth chattering, sitting in front of the fireplace. One of the foot soldiers in the break room of Falcon’s Nest tossed a small chopped wood into it. As the flames flickered and grew by size, the dark night howling and shuddering the fogged windows, the Dragoon chuckled, lowering his head. His comrades glanced at him with their brows raised.

“I wonder what Ingrid and Felix are doing right now?” he said to no one in particular. The black-armored lancer pulled on the thin blanket over his shoulders, his smile faltering. “They’re probably out there, saving the world… as the Warriors of Light. Just like the legends.” Sylvain balled his hands into fists. “Not like me.”

They grew up together in Ishgard. Compared to most of the other citizens, they were from noble families, their future filled with so many possibilities. Eventually, once they became teenagers, they made the decision to become adventurers.

Sylvain and Ingrid moved to Gridania to join the Lancer guild, and Felix moved to Ul’dah to join the Gladiator guild. Over time, Sylvain and Ingrid moved back to Coerthas to further their training. As for Felix, he traveled to Gridania and, after meeting a mentor, picked up a new weapon. Their training resulted in two successful Dragoons and a Gunbreaker.

The three promised to go traveling. To become an adventurer band and explore places that many Eorzeans have yet discovered. The thrill that threatens to burst from their breasts. They would write their own stories and weave long tales of miraculous feats throughout the world, Hydaelyn.

However, Sylvain was selected to be a royal protector for Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. An invitation from the lord of a prominent family in Ishgard is a rare event. Though Dimitri was not as powerful as the four High Houses of Ishgard (House of Haillenarte, Hurendaire, Dzemael, and Fortemps), he managed to find a small place in Ishgard’s politics, making him an important figure known throughout the city. And the benefits. Benefits beyond Sylvain’s wildest dreams for him and his family was a tempting exchange. Followed by the ideologies and gentle nature of Dimitri, obviously, Sylvain did not hesitate to accept the offer.

But, at what cost?

“Sir…”

Noticing his allies’ concerned features, Sylvain straightened his back. He smiled. Then, he reached over, slapping one of them on the back. “Why are you giving me that strange look?” he asked. “They have their own lives to worry about. I have mine, and my place in this world is here in Coerthas under Dimitri’s guidance.” It was too late to cry over what had happened. Sylvain had to swallow the fact that, in the end, he had chosen to walk down this path.

Still, sometimes, he could not help but wonder what his contribution is for Eorzea and her people. He heard about the war against the Garlean Empire. The Three Great Continents, Gridania, Ul’dah, and Limsa Lominsa, all combined their efforts to defeat the tyrannical nation. And Ishgard chose to stay out of it.

“Commander Gautier!” a guard called after bursting open the door. Out of breath, the young woman said, “The Warriors of Light are here.”

“What?” He stood up, the blanket slipping off. Shadows danced on the wall from behind as he frowned. “Is there a reason as to why they’re here?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I do not know. However, Lord Dimitri officially requests that you return to his manor.” The guard kept the door open as the Dragoon stepped out of the building, his armor doing well to hold up against the relentless winds. Sylvain followed her, his hand holding his black draconic helmet. “He told me that you know two of them very well.”

Sylvain’s jaw outlined. “Ingrid and Felix… I didn’t think I would see them ever again.”

“Commander?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Let’s go. I’m sure there’s something important if Lord Dimitri called me out of my post.”

**[-----]**

Before the great Calamity that took the lives of many, Ishgard was a nation proud of its four seasons. Although their winter lasted longer than others, its citizens lived as comfortably as possible amidst the warring state. Byleth recalled traveling with Jeralt and their mercenary band. They’ve spent only a week, Byleth’s status as the Warrior of Light granting them an invitation to come in and out of the city.

The crisp air that smelled fresher than any she had ever encountered. The cool breeze that ruffled her teal hair, gentle touches upon her Paladin’s armor. And she could not forget the wonderful sight of nature. Stretched far and wide, a vast plain of hills was littered with various creatures. Many adventurers too roamed the premise, the same said for merchants and soldiers.

But after five years, the Holy See of Ishgard was a stranger to Byleth.

Byleth’s thick winter boots sunk into the deep snow, the white surface stopping below her knees. With each step, there was a crunch, its numbers multiplied by eight wandering Warriors of Light, half of them on their chocobos. And with each step they took on the empty path up the high mountains, the storm thickened, a cloud of white powder puffing and layering their vision in a thin mist in this dark night. She squinted her eyes and raised her arms as a strong gust of cold blew against the ascending group. Frost bit into their exposed skin, their brown coats and scarves fluttering wildly, her hood blown off. Her teeth chattered, loud. But, so did those who traveled with her, more so with those on foot.

Dorothea, Edelgard, Lysithea, and Mercedes gripped the reins of Anderson, Sothis, Glenn, and Pom Pom respectively, pressing their bodies into the feathered warmth. The birds cooed and marched the steep path, their occasional cries silenced by the howling winds. Lanterns hung onto the mount’s saddle, lighting their darkened pathway.

“How much farther?” Hubert yelled.

Ingrid and Felix, who wore nothing more than their armored uniform, stopped in place, the lead travelers glancing over their shoulders. Felix raised his lantern, squinting his eyes.

“Not much longer!” Felix said. “We’re almost there!”

“I would hope so! I wouldn’t want Lady Edelgard to freeze with her inadequate winter attire.”

“Hubert, I’m okay—”

“Lady Edelgard, I only speak the truth.” He shielded his face again with a grimace, another gust from Mother Nature. “If only we weren’t caught up in Ul’dah’s political struggle, we could have been more prepared.”

Byleth shifted her gaze. What should’ve been a party to celebrate their accomplishments during the war against the Garlean Empire ended bitterly. So very bitterly.

Less than two days ago, Byleth was framed for the murder of Queen Nanamo Ul Namo of Ul’dah.

Scions of the Seventh Dawn were either captured, arrested, or fled. Flame General of Ul’dah, Raubahn, was thrown into prison, losing his arm during the event, and soon expected to be executed. The Admiral of Maelstrom, Merlwyb, and Elder Seedseer of Twin Adder, Kan-E, were unable to do anything but leave the palace to their displeasure. After all, should one of them stick their hands into Ul’dah’s business for their friend, they would break the alliance between the three great nations, causing a war to break out.

And there was nothing the eight Warriors of Light and two remaining members from the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Alphinaud Leveilleur and Tataru Taru, could do but run away. Which led to their current situation, Alphinaud and Tataru running ahead to Ishgard first, the others tailing from behind from a distance.

The Samurai bit her bruised lip. Betrayals, sacrifices, deaths, politics. She barely understood what her future holds, and what it meant for her allies. All their hard work was discredited. Byleth never asked for glory or for fame like Felix, but she never asked to be branded as a criminal. And neither did everyone else, but their status was now marked the same.

“Byleth?”

She looked to the right. Sothis stared ahead, standing in place, Edelgard extending her hand. The young Warrior tilted her head to the side, her brows arched. Byleth lowered her arms and looked around. Everyone but Hubert, Ingrid, and Edelgard went on ahead, the three waiting for the frozen Samurai.

“Does your injury still hurt?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth shook her head. “Not anymore.” She lightly patted her side. “The potion helped numb the pain.”

There was a reason as to why Byleth was forced into retirement so early in her adventuring career. Over-exertion flared her old wound, the pain spiking to unfathomable levels, causing the Samurai to hobble during their escape. Felix and Edelgard tag-teamed to distract the guards as Mercedes and Lysithea brought her far from the fight, Dorothea, Ingrid, and Hubert striking down those that came close.

“Would you like to switch places?”

Yet she shook her head again. Edelgard puffed her cheeks. Seeing her girlfriend pout, the teal-haired woman chuckled. She took her hand and squeezed it. “El, I’m more worried about you. You’ve sustained some injuries during our escape, and I can’t have you walking through this snow.”

Had Edelgard not taken the arrows that aimed at Byleth, Byleth would have been riddled with holes like swiss cheese.

But it came at a cost.

If Mercedes and Dorothea were not present… Those poisoned arrows… Had they been mortal wounds…

Byleth slapped her own cheek with her free hand and flashed a forced smile. “Besides, I like walking.”

Edelgard stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Uh-huh. Last time I remembered, you weren’t too fond of walking because of your handicap.” She sighed and squeezed Byleth’s hand in return. “I insist. You should sit with me. Sothis wouldn’t mind carrying one more person, right?”

“If her saddlebag isn’t lugged with my supplies.”

“…oh.”

“And you know how Sothis is,” Byleth said and patted the now green chocobo, the bird tilting her head. “She’ll buck me off.”

“Oh, I don’t think she will.”

“You sure about that? She’s a feisty bird.”

Sothis squawked and tried to peck her owner, Byleth narrowly dodging her attack. Edelgard giggled at the sight of her girlfriend squabbling over her mount. Not that the talking did anything, Sothis managed to peck her squarely on the head. The Samurai rubbed her head ferociously and glared at her chocobo.

“See? She’s even feisty when I’m not on her!”

“Strange. I wonder why she didn’t act that way towards me.”

“Sothis!? Are you playing favoritism now!?”

Someone loudly cleared their voice from behind. Hubert approached Byleth and patted her shoulder. “Master Eisner, as much as I would love to let you both continue your conversation, don’t you think it would be fair to do so once we’ve reached our destination?” He motioned his head towards the waiting Dragoon. “Ingrid is waiting for us.”

As the three began moving again, but not without some grumbling, Ingrid exhaled a white mist, peering through her masked helmet. She turned her back towards the adventurers and led them in the same direction as her comrades. A couple of steps in and she noticed Dorothea waiting patiently for her on Anderson.

“They must be tired,” Dorothea said once her girlfriend arrived. The Dragoon shrugged her shoulders, and replied, “The climb is not for the faint-hearted. Not many merchants and travelers would come to Ishgard, lest they be ready to face death.” She paused and looked up. Ingrid squinted, trying to extract some meaningful detail in the white blanket. “Then again, Ishgard hadn’t accepted any visitors since the Calamity.”

“You’ve mentioned the war against the dragons.”

Ingrid nodded. “If I chose to stay behind, I would gladly choose to fight in the frontline. Though I doubt my parents would be happy to hear that.”

“Wait—” Anderson cawed loudly, flapping his wings, and snapping his beak into the air. Dorothea released her rein, quickly smoothing his neck and apologized. “You mean to tell me that you have family here?”

“Did I not mention them?”

Dorothea shook her head. Ingrid crossed her arms and continued moving, the Scholar accompanying her. “Perhaps I’ve left out the details about my nobility.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say… nobility?”

Ingrid nodded. “Both Felix and I come from small noble families. Though, not like the four High Houses of Ishgard. We have almost nothing to do with politics, lest we spare our children for the long war against Dravania.” To fight the dragons, that is the purpose of minor houses like House Galatea and House Fraldarius. Ingrid sighed. “But my family prefers to have the males become warriors and the females become wives. It’s too bad I’m their only child.”

“Did your parents approve of you becoming an adventurer? Surely they must be proud that you became the Warrior of Light!”

“If only, they’d see me as something more than a woman to be married off.”

The Scholar was unable to pull anymore from her girlfriend, the Dragoon hastening her pace, ignoring Dorothea’s questions. Returning to Ishgard was their only choice, a recommendation from a dear friend, Lord Haurchefant Greystone, in Camp Dragonhead, Coerthas Central Highlands. Otherwise, she would’ve steered clear from this region. Forever.

Dorothea sighed, Anderson carrying her at a leisurely gait through the raging snow. She pulled on the brown jacket and shuddered, albeit for a reason other than the cold.

They continued to march and drag their legs through the snow, fatigue settling into their sore bones and muscles. A bit of invigoration filled their weary movements when they passed through a shambled gate that barely held up over the years. Felix gritted his teeth with another step sinking into the deep whiteness. He glanced over his shoulder, spying on Lysithea. The frail, white-haired woman huddled close to Glenn, burying most of her face into the feathered creature. His fists tightened and he picked up the pace.

But he moved too fast. Everyone behind him began to lag, with an exception of Ingrid. Heavy cold wind slammed into their bodies, wracking them of a drowsy spell, the chilly atmosphere slowly freezing their innards. They’d traveled a great distance to reach Ishgard, but their surroundings became that of a tormenting blizzard, their visions fading into pure white.

Everything looked the same. All they could do was march forward. Hubert breathed hard. His knees stopped bending, his legs now dragging through the snow in a singular line, leaving a steady trail. The Black Mage wobbled. Then, he collapsed onto the white sheet, face-first.

“Hubert? Hubert!” Byleth shook his shoulders, only to no avail. Byleth and Edelgard quickly called for Mercedes, their words barely reaching the White Mage’s ears from afar.

“Here, let him up!” The robe she had constructed by hand fluttered as she and Byleth lifted him onto Pom Pom’s saddle, exchanging her seat with his. Mercedes planted the staff onto the ground with a crunch, looking to her comrades. “I can walk. Pom Pom has too much of my equipment to carry two people.” She faintly smiled, though forced. “I’ve traveled long enough with you all to bear through this.”

The other half had their problems too. Dorothea and Lysithea’s teeth chattered, their eyelids threatening to shut for eternal bliss. Ingrid and Felix, so used to the cold, struggled to keep everyone at their pace.

Felix growled under his breath. No, not after all their efforts, for their lives to end like this—! They worked so hard to defend Eorzea and defeat the Garlean Empire! He and Ingrid can’t be the only ones left in the end! Then, he stomped through the landscape, his seething fury aimed at their common enemy.

Just a little bit more—!

He saw blackness, but his feet kept moving, his arms swinging with each step. Not looking behind, the young man marched onward like a little toy adventurer, however far his legs can carry him.

It’s just a little bit more, after all.

Just.

A… little.

Bit.

More…

“Felix!” His eyes snapped open, unaware he had them closed. The snowstorm… it stopped. But when? The Gunbreaker looked to the speaker, Ingrid lending her shoulder to him. Despite the concealed face, he could sense her piercing gaze. She managed a smile. “Don’t fall asleep on me. We’re here.”

“…here?” Felix’s voice cracked, weaker than Ingrid’s. When he raised his head, he saw his allies rushing past him, their worn and tired souls carrying them up the stairs for one last sprint. The tall structures overshadowed their presence. He rubbed his eyes. It was still there. A chortled laugh broke out, the Gunbreaker closing his eyes. “I can’t believe it… We made it through that hellish climb.”

With Ingrid’s assistance, they slowly ascended the stairs. Their group was present at the closed gates, the familiar blue of the Temple Knights guarding the entranceway. Underneath their steel masks, their eyes bore into their weary spirits, Edelgard trying to explain their situation to them. Still on Sothis, she motioned her hands, her brows furrowed. Alphinaud and Tataru were also present, trying to reason with the men too. Coming closer, Felix and Ingrid overheard their arguments.

“We do not allow outsiders to enter our premise, Warrior of Light or not,” one of the guards said.

Edelgard’s hands trembled into fists. “So, you would let us die out here in the cold then!?” She hopped down from Byleth’s chocobo. “We have weak members from our group that need shelter from the storm!”

“Lass, as much as we want to help you, we already have problems of our own,” the other guard said. He shooed her. “Many people die from the cold. You’re not a special case here.”

“You—!”

“Edie, don’t waste your breath on them,” Dorothea swung her arm out, blocking Edelgard from coming close. “But I wonder, what kind of person are you to serve Ishgard with that sort of attitude? I’ve thought you’ve taken up this job to protect Ishgard’s reputation, not ruin it.”

“Don’t talk to us like you know who we are,” he snarled. “We are in a war with the dragons, aye. We’re only doing the best we can for our people.”

“And that includes ignoring those in need of help?”

“We don’t have enough resources, lass!” He shook off his comrade’s hand and marched up to Dorothea. Dorothea glared up at him with hands on her hips. The Temple Knight pointed to the wall from behind. “We could barely feed our own people! What makes us able to help you folks?”

“Confound it all!” Alphinaud frowned. “Lord Haurchefant sent us here with the promise of our safety. Don’t you think that’s enough reasoning?”

The guards shook their heads. “Unless the archbishop grants us permission, we are not allowed to welcome visitors to the premise, no matter the circumstances.”

Everyone’s eyes widened when the Scholar reeled her hand back. She slapped him. Hard. His steel helmet jutted out of place, the man stumbling backward from the force. Dorothea’s palm became bright red, resisting the temptation to shake her hurting hand, choosing to maintain her piercing stare. And that was when the armored guard, after readjusting his helmet, reached for his sheathed sword.

Dorothea bit the inside of her cheek and a gust of wind circled around her. Her brown jacket flew off of her figure. The dark green robe that she’d adorned immediately transitioned to a ruby red dancer outfit, showing more skin than appropriate for the chilly setting.

Chakrams at hand, she stood on her tiptoe, weapons raised. “If you’re going to force us out, then I have no choice but to take you down!” And she wasn’t alone. Mercedes pulled out her white staff, a gentle glow emitting from its sapphire orb. Edelgard joined the fray, her axe unsheathed and in her hands. The Warrior grimaced, feeling her bandaged abdomen dully ache, but she kept her position.

“Seven Hells, why did it come to this,” Alphinaud grumbled, but took out his grimoire, cracking it open and ready to summon his Carbuncle. Though he disliked unnecessary violence, the guards weren’t appealing to their pleads. And for a slap to escalate into cutting someone down… He furrowed his brows and said, “I beg of you one last time to lower your arms. We only seek shelter.”

Seeing no response, the white-haired Elezen sighed. Actions speak louder than words.

“Wait!” Felix and Ingrid stepped between the group, passing through them and standing in front of Edelgard, Dorothea, Mercedes, and Alphinaud. Releasing her hold on him, the Gunbreaker approached the two guards. He brushed the remaining snow particles on his shoulders and glared at the guards. “Is this how you treat us after returning to our hometown?”

“Us…?” A pause. Then, the guard quickly sheathed his blade, bowing his head to Felix and Ingrid. “W-We did not expect you, Prince Felix and Princess Ingrid!”

“…did I hear that right?” Mercedes mumbled. She exchanged glances with Edelgard, Dorothea, and Alphinaud. “They’re of nobility?”

“This is quite the plot twist,” Alphinaud said and closed his grimoire. “But perhaps this will be in our favor.”

Sure enough, the guards profusely apologized for their irrational actions, begging for forgiveness from the two nobles.

Felix and Ingrid heeded no attention to them. Instead, they demanded the gates open, allowing the rest of the Light Party to scurry into the towering premise, safe from the harsh grasp of nature. Felix, the last to head inside, paused. He turned around at the entranceway, looking at the shaken soldiers. The Gunbreaker frowned.

“You should get your eyes checked. Next time, I’ll cut you down for trying to hurt my comrades.”

By the time the metallic gates closed, the ten members stood in Ishgard’s Foundation.

Massive grounds laid out the cold, bricked setting, Temple Knights patrolling the premise, their civilians coming to and from the premise. Some of them sat on the structure’s many stony steps, the knights staring into nothing, sword and shield snuggled on the pavement. And the Aetheryte crystals stood in the center of the premise, radiating its blue light for ease of travel to and from their destinations.

Looking down from the premise is an impossible feat. A drop so far, the naked eye cannot perceive its misty end. Death would come to the fallen long before they’ve reached rock bottom. If there was ever a bottom, to begin with. The group looked up. High above their heads, various towers, worn from prolonged time, stood strong. Yet reconstructions were seen over existing buildings, the snowflakes melting upon the ballistic arrows and equipment against the Dravanians.

An olden city marked with a twisted, long history. Felix exhaled and glanced at the group. With a weary smile, he said,

“…we’ve arrived, my friends.”

**[-----]**

They were already at work the instant they attuned to Ishgard’s Aetheryte.

Alphinaud and Tataru decided that it would be best if the two Scions went on ahead. They needed to seek Ser Aymeric for further inquiries of their current predicament. Mercedes took Lysithea, Hubert, and Edelgard to the nearest inn, warming them up and preventing any potential frostbite from gnawing their body parts. The chocobos were designated to rest at the inn too, the birds nestling in newfound warmth for a good-night sleep. As for the rest, they were to search for shelter appropriate as their home base. They all knew they would reside in Ishgard for much longer than a month or two.

The remaining four stood at the center of the Foundation, pondering their next move. This time of the day meant very little people to interact with, the lights from almost all windows on the buildings lit with warmth. There were merchants, but it’s unlikely they would offer a place to reprise, especially that of branded criminals.

“I don’t want to visit my family,” both Ingrid and Felix said at the same time. They crossed their arms, shaking their head with great ferocity. Byleth lowered her head and sighed. She asked, “Why?”

“I would rather camp out right here, right now than meet my parents,” Ingrid grumbled.

Felix mimicked her tone with a frown. “My father is a foolish man. A doormat to the archbishop and never saw me as his son. I would rather stay out here in the cold than see him again.”

“Right…” A strong gust blew strands of her teal hair wildly, forcing her to hold it down with a hand. Looking to her right, weary soldiers and guards of Ishgard patrolled the shambled premise. The poor sat against the wall, curled into a fetal position, and shivered violently. Some of them laid down, unmoving, with their eyes shut. Byleth narrowed her eyes. “I prefer we not meet the same fate as them though.”

Ishgard is a very stratified community. Those of highborn status would live in The Pillars, luxury a normal routine. Those of lowborn would live in the Foundation, surviving on meager amounts of food, water, and shelter. Nobility and commoner. Byleth knew Ul’dah was just as bad, but never had it been so explicit like Ishgard here. After the Calamity, it had gotten much worse with its system. The snow had killed off most businesses and the diminishing number of available squadrons for their current war hurt Ishgard’s morale. Yet many of those from The Pillars clamored and knocked back expensive liquors, choosing to be ignorant of the suffering. To those that do care, they were powerless.

He noticed her gaze and loudly exhaled. “Ever since Ishgard has been at war with Dravania, this place became uglier,” Felix said. Not looking at Byleth, he stared at the torn structures. “They say war doesn’t discriminate. Everyone has equal opportunity and treatment.” He shifted his gaze, watching a young woman get pulled away by three of the Temple Knights from her old grandmother. “But it does.”

The four members needn’t pull their weapons out, a noble rescuing the fair maiden. They continued to watch the young man parry the attacks of the bullying knights. As they heard “I am Ferdinand von Aegir!” from him, Dorothea returned to their topic, tugging on the brown jacket over her original Scholar attire.

“I hate that,” she shook her head. “The poor stay poor and the rich become richer… It’s disgusting. It’s nothing like the other three nations.”

“Well, we have the Lord Commander that defies all odds,” Ingrid said.

“You mean Lord Aymeric de Borel?”

She nodded. “To be honest, I’m surprised he’s still sticking around.”

Ser Aymeric was different. He was not of noble birth. He rose in rank by virtue of his many accomplishments and success. Though some were disgruntled with the decision to keep him in one of the most powerful positions in Ishgard, many people place blind trust in him. The same could be said for him in them.

Felix clenched his hands into fists, looking up at the snowy clouds. A puff of white mist left his mouth.

“I fear for the day he would be careless and leave his back wide open.”

Their conversation was cut short when a stranger bumped into Ingrid. The Dragoon stood her ground, merely taking a step back from the abrupt impact. The same could not be said for the stranger. The young man tumbled forward, his books tossed up into the air, and yelped. He slammed his face into the rocky pavement with hands outstretched. At that same moment, his glasses shattered, the thick books plopping onto the pavement with great force.

“Oh dear…” Dorothea and Byleth hastily gathered the reading materials which had fallen to the ground. Ingrid immediately got down to one knee, touching his back. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Ugh… I think my glasses are broken…” He raised his head. The poor man’s glasses were wrangled from the fall, only the sturdy structure of its frame staying intact. Pieces of glass scattered beneath. Mildly amused that he sustained no injuries other than a red nose, the young man got up to his feet and thanked Ingrid with squinted eyes. “Sorry. I was in a rush to have these delivered to my lord. I hope you’re not hurt, ma’am?”

“No,” she said. “But you should be more careful. Will you be alright without your glasses?”

“Um…” He fidgeted on the spot. Seeing his now blurred surroundings, he softly sighed. He opened his mouth. “I—"

“Ignatz! What did you get yourself into this time?” Sylvain, without his helmet, jogged to the group.

Originally heading to The Pillars after his departure from Falcon’s Nest, Sylvain was tasked with a different responsibility the moment he stepped foot into the Blaiddyd’s manor: find Ignatz. Dedue from the manor had been searching for him since the morning, yet to no avail. It should have been a simple trip to the orthodox church’s library. Gather the necessary books for their superior. But Sylvain knew him well. The Dragoon ran his hand through his red locks, shaking his head.

“You should stop wandering off on your own. And look at you!” Sylvain touched his smashed glasses. “Do we need to get another replacement for you?”

Ignatz nodded with a sigh. “Unfortunately. I was a little careless with my trip— Oh, thank you,” he said while receiving the stacked books from Dorothea and Byleth.

Sylvain turned to the four adventurers with stiffened features. “I’m so sorry about that. He could be very careless— Wait…” He lost his breath, his eyes widening. “Ingrid?” He then turned to look at the Gunbreaker. “Felix?”

Time had stopped for the three individuals. Byleth and Dorothea exchanged glances and shrugged. Soon, Sylvain took their hands into his shaky ones, his brown hues never leaving their face. He dryly swallowed and tightened his hold. “You’re really Ingrid and Felix, aren’t you?”

“Sylvain…” Ingrid whispered. “Hi.”

The male Dragoon cracked a grin. A wide grin. In a blur, he pulled both Ingrid and Felix into a hug, burying his face into their shoulders. His iron grip around them, he mumbled, “That’s all you have to say?” When they separated, Sylvain heartily laughed. “After three years?”

Ingrid chuckled and looked down. Felix scratched the back of his head. “I knew we would see each other again,” he said. “But,” his rare smile dropped. “I wished we could’ve met under more favorable circumstances.”

“What do you mean?”

Felix’s eyes sharpened. “We need your help.”

Help.

That was the last word Sylvain would want to hear from his friends. Felix and Ingrid, two adventurers who became the Warriors of Light, their valiant bravery and efforts for the greater good, asking him, a simple Dragoon serving under Lord Dimitri, for help? Sylvain still smiled, albeit strained.

“You can’t be serious, right?” he said. “You both are known throughout Eorzea as the greatest warriors out there. What could you possibly need help from someone like me?”

“Sylvain,” Felix grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. Sylvain stumbled forward, landing into the tank’s shoulder. He peeled away, but stopped short, the ponytailed male leaning to his ear. “This is something we cannot do on our own anymore.”

When they parted, Felix kept his hands on his friend’s wrist, slowly loosening his grip. Sylvain’s hand slid away and impressed on his black armored plate. The Dragoon backed away awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, mumbling under his breath.

“Sylvain?” Ingrid came to proximity and rested a hand on his arm. “Is something the matter?”

He shook his head. “No… no, nothing like that. It’s just…”

“Just?”

Sylvain’s lips drew into a line. He shook his head again, leaving his sentence unfinished. Before Ingrid could ask again, he motioned to the four Warriors of Light. “Let us go,” he said. “Lord Dimitri requested your presence.”

“Is there a reason why?” Felix raised his brow. “I understand you serve under him, but what’s his angle?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. But he’s a nice guy. Just like I told you in the letters I’ve sent out by the Moogles.”

“Hope he doesn’t mind us four only then,” Ingrid said.

Sylvain chuckled. “That’s fine.” He also swiped most of Ignatz’s pile, alleviating his tense arms from dropping the stash again. Holding them with one hand, he winked and flashed a forced smile. “I’m sure he’ll meet with the others soon enough. For now, follow your friendly handsome soldier to the manor.”

He walked with his head held up high. Ignatz stumbled right after him, the Scholar trying his best to walk straight. Felix and Ingrid exchanged glances. They then looked over their shoulders to see Byleth and Dorothea approaching.

“So, he’s a friend of yours?” Dorothea asked. Ingrid nodded. Then, Dorothea sighed. “You have a lot of explaining to do, babe.”

“I… I know.”

Dorothea came to her side and took her hand. “I look forward to hearing the tales and stories you have of this place.” They intertwined their fingers before walking after Sylvain.

Felix cupped his chin, frowning. “I haven’t been one to talk about my past, but I’m surprised Ingrid hid it from Dorothea.” He pondered. Thinking about her family, her relationship with Dorothea, her reason for becoming an adventurer… The Gunbreaker stopped, nearly causing Byleth to crash into him.

“Did you have an epiphany?” she asked after regaining her composure.

He turned to her with darkened features. “Unfortunately.”

“…I see.”

Byleth didn’t push for more details afterward. This wasn’t her business to butt in and neither was Felix’s.

**[-----]**

The Pillars, in comparison to the Foundation, was like comparing night and day, the sun and the moon. Fantastic displays of lights and social activity were lively. Many civilians residing here either were members of the church, members of nobility, merchants of high caliber, or high esteemed soldiers hired by the nobles. Constructions and debris that littered the Foundation were nowhere in sight. Airship docks are active even at this time of the day.

Dorothea and Ingrid stopped, looking up at the church. Its structures towered the highest of them all, its intimidating presence shadowing everyone in both stratified communities. The Scholar hugged Ingrid’s arm, whispering, “The church must hold some incredible power over Ishgard.”

Her comment was supported by the sculptures of famous persons of history spread throughout the premise, namely that of the archbishops that served Ishgard for many hundreds of years.

Untouched by the war. It was like a utopia. Dorothea could understand just a little bit as to why the highborn wish to preserve their place in Ishgard. And her blood boils because of it.

While Felix, Ingrid, Dorothea, and Sylvain climbed the stairs up to The Last Vigil section of The Pillars, from the corner of her eyes, Byleth spotted an Astrologian Guild. She thought very little about it. Her specialty lies in tanking and attacking, less about healing. Perhaps she should ask Mercedes once she’s out of the inn to visit the guild.

“…?”

A familiar figure flickered in sight. The Samurai halted and turned to look.

Many people came and went from the guild. Yet that familiar figure… They were not there anymore. But that blue hair. She could have sworn that person was Marianne.

Her lips drew to a line and she shook her head, turning away from the guild. It must be from the long trek up the mountains to reach Ishgard, the shadows and light were playing tricks on her.

She soon arrived at the doorstep of House Blaiddyd. Sylvain and Ignatz pushed open the double doors, leading them into the mansion.

Warmth was the first thing that greeted the four Warriors of Light. Everyone collectively sighed.

Surrounding them was that of royalty. Expensive gold and silver adorned the interiors, accompanied by a blue lion designed on the many furniture, flags, and carpet present. The rugs from the front entrance extended outward to the sides, stretching up into the stairs, ascending three stories high. To Ingrid and Felix, this was the norm, but to Byleth and Dorothea, they observed with awe.

“Whoa, when did you cut your hair?” Sylvain asked after Ingrid took off her helmet. She looked up to the ceiling and hummed. “Last year, I think.”

“That’s surprising. This new hairstyle doesn’t have anything to do with your parents, right?”

“No, it was just something I wanted to do after talking it out with Dorothea.”

“Oh,” he looked at the Scholar. He looked at Ingrid. Then at Dorothea again. His eyes were drawn to their hands. A lightbulb went off over his head almost immediately and his cheeks flushed. Looking elsewhere, he covered his mouth and said, “Oh, you’ve mentioned having a girlfriend in your letters. Are you sure your parents will be okay with this?”

Dorothea raised her brows while Ingrid tightened her hold. “It’s too late to ask for that,” she said.

“I mean, they’ve always been about traditions, aren’t they?”

“I see that you were the first one to meet them.”

Silence swept over the group from the voice overhead. Footsteps followed suit after his metallic, clinking sound, the sound effects getting louder. It came to a stop. Dimitri, in his black armor and blue lion overcoat, cut an impressive figure standing on the second floor with his Paladin bodyguard. He trekked down the stairs with a hand on the wooden railing, Dedue following closely from behind.

“I’m glad you’ve arrived safely, Warriors of Light,” he smiled once he reached ground level. “I am Lord Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I welcome you to the Blaiddyd Manor.”

“I thank you for your kind welcome,” Byleth said. “Though I wish to ask as to why you’ve requested our presence. I doubt we have much to offer at this time.”

He laughed and placed a hand on his chest, bowing to the Samurai. “You will be pleased to hear that I am not here to request for help of any kind. I simply wish to introduce myself and offer you all a warm welcome to Ishgard, if it hadn’t been done so.”

“After the guards tried to boot us out from the gate, I think it’s a warm welcome alright,” Dorothea said.

Ingrid lightly elbowed her girlfriend. But that did not stop the lord from making a comment about it. Dimitri softly sighed and shook his head. “I apologize for the Temple Knights’ actions,” he said. “If only I could tell Ser Aymeric about it, I’m certain their harassment to the public might stop.”

“Wait,” Dorothea stepped forward. “You’re telling me that this has been going on for some time?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Then why can’t you tell Ser Aymeric?”

“I lack the political power like the major four Houses,” he said with another shake of his head. “My words would be heard, but nothing would be done about it. Ser Aymeric is a good man, but if my words cannot reach him because of my status, then it would take some time until I can do so.”

“Why not meet with him in-person?”

“That would be difficult. I’m bound to this manor with my duties as a lord.”

Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose and waved his other hand. “But let us not talk about my position anymore. I would like to extend my offer to help you with anything that you’ve need. Though… I noticed that we are missing half of the group, are we not?”

“They’re resting at the inn for tonight,” Ingrid answered. “Some of them fell unconscious during our ascent. One of them was injured during our getaway from Ul’dah.”

“Getaway?”

“Ah— You haven’t heard?”

Dimitri shook his head. Ingrid bit her lower lip and looked elsewhere, noticing Sylvain, Dedue, and Ignatz’s eyes trained on her. Felix stepped up in her place with an explanation. The story of their downfall in Ul’dah, the events that occurred during their escape, the missing Scions of the Seventh Dawn, their refuge in Ishgard recommended by Haurchefant, and the high emotions they’ve felt during it all. And throughout their telling, Sylvain’s hands formed into fists, trembling.

“How could they brand you like that?!” he yelled and slammed his fist on the wall. “You’ve done nothing wrong! None of you did!”

Felix scratched the back of his head. “That’s why we’re planning to stay here and recuperate our energy. Alphinaud can help us think up a plan to learn about the truth.” He glanced at Byleth. “Yugiri and her people from Doma are currently looking into it as we speak. But for now,” he turned back to Sylvain. “We wait and regain our strength.”

“It has been certainly a long day for you,” Dimitri said and rubbed his chin. “If you would like, I will offer you my spare rooms in this mansion for you all.”

“We’ll gladly take up the offer then,” Ingrid and Felix said.

Dorothea frowned. “I never knew the nobles could be so kind-hearted like you. Or are you trying to use us?”

“Mistress Arnault,” Dedue said sternly. “My lord is not that type of person.”

“Dedue, it’s okay,” Dimitri raised his hand. “I cannot blame her for thinking of me in that light. Unlike Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix, she and Byleth see me as no more than that of a stranger, and that is okay. I would be concerned if they thought otherwise.”

The Scholar crossed her arms. “I’m glad that my point went across smoothly.” Maybe a bit smoother than she expected. Dimitri chuckled and motioned to her. “Whatever you feel towards me, I will not hold it against you. But my offer still stands. I’m here to help you all.”

After all, who could deny hospitality for the Warriors of Light? The savior and protector of them all? The one that will shine a light for the people of Hydaelyn? Many Ishgardian families would offer their rapport and support, but in these trying times, only House Blaiddyd was available. And the fact that Sylvain’s childhood friends were a part of the reputable group? Ever more reason to extend his courtesy.

But who was to say that he wouldn’t backstab them later?

Dorothea hesitantly accepted the offer, doing so because her lover green-lit it. Dorothea turned to Byleth. The older Samurai, noticing her stare, gently pat her on the arm.

“If anything happens like in Ul’dah, we’ll be there for each other. But I’m sure your girlfriend knows best. She knows Lord Dimitri, does she not?”

“True…”

Another pat and a smile. “Have more faith. He might be as nice as Haurchefant and Aymeric.”

“Easy for you to say.” Unlike Byleth, who took the new events with grace, Dorothea was baffled. Especially with how much it revolved around Ingrid and Felix. It was already shocking that they were of nobility. But she said no more and followed her girlfriend, the two entering the same bedroom. Felix too parted, entering another guest room.

As for Byleth, she responded otherwise. “Thank you, but I wish to be at the inn with Edelgard,” she said. “I would like to keep a close eye on her until she gets better.”

“Very well,” Dimitri said. “Should you return, we will welcome you once again.”

“I’m certain we will be coming here frequently,” she said and turned her back. Opening the door revealed the chilly weather, cooling the warm interior. Byleth, after adjusting her brown overcoat, left the structure, leaving the men to their own.

Just as she left, she was replaced with another Paladin, the orange-haired noble skidding inside the manor. He was wheezing hard with hands on his knees. A bit disheveled and roughed up from his earlier confrontation. Sweat slid down his face as Ferdinand gasped, “Did I miss them?” When Dimitri raised his brows, the young man wildly motioned in the air. “The Warriors of Light!”

“Two of them went to bed. One just left. The rest are at the inn.”

Ferdinand straightened his back and snapped his fingers. “Seven Hells, I wanted to meet with them! Maybe I’ll try finding the one that just left.”

“That would be unwise,” sweat flew out of the lord’s head. “Master Eisner must be tired from their trip. You should meet with them tomorrow if you so desire.”

“And that I shall!” Ferdinand grinned and puffed his chest. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and I will let my presence be known to them!”

A cloud of smoke appeared where he once stood. Strange enough, it outlined the noble’s figure, slowly dissipating. Dimitri tapped the side of his head with a hum. “I can only hope Master Eisner makes it to the inn in time, lest she meets Ferdinand this late at night.”

“Are you certain about this, milord?” Dedue asked. “About letting Master Eisner stay at the inn instead?”

“I am,” Dimitri said and turned to his bodyguard. “I’m aware such generosity is a rarity these days. However, I’m doing my best to serve our community and speak for the common folks.” Noticing Sylvain leaving the front room to visit Felix, the blonde lord faintly smiled. “If anything, I’m also doing this for Sylvain.”

Ignatz, now swapped with a spare pair of glasses, spoke up. “Milord, if I could interrupt, I’ve brought the books you’ve requested.”

“Thank you, Ignatz,” he smiled. “You are free to take your leave.”

As the Scholar departed from the main room, Dimitri approached the pile on the glass table. He brushed his fingertips over the leather cover. On top of the stacked hardcopies was the title “Nidhogg and Hraesvelgr,” tracing the letters. He softly sighed and glanced over his shoulder. The portrait of his parents hung over the fireplace.

“I promise you,” he whispered. “I will avenge your death.”

**[-----]**

In one of the guest rooms, Ingrid, still in full armor, tossed herself onto the queen-sized mattress. She happily sighed as her body sunk into the soft material. The entire trip the past three days, counting today, was tiresome. Everyone was running and hiding. Some fighting in-between. But mostly running. Ingrid buried her face into the white pillow, inhaling the floral fragrance that reminds her of the greenery in Ishgard.

She closed her eyes and nodded off. A soft snore left the Dragoon mere minutes later.

The warmth and comfort of the cotton fabric suddenly disappeared. As Ingrid greeted the wooden flooring face-first with a loud yelp, the ground shaking from the impact. She groaned and raised her head, her girlfriend dusting her hands in the air. Frowning, Ingrid scrambled to her feet. Dorothea poked her squarely on the shoulder with a small smile.

“Get changed, babe,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to dirty the sheets, would you?”

“Oh… right.”

The Dragoon dragged herself to the nearest bathroom, stripping out of her armor with loud clunks, and taking advantage of the tub as well. Dorothea joined shortly afterward, following Ingrid. The bags under their eyes were prominent as they quietly scrubbed their bruised, scarred skin, washing each other’s back.

Dorothea thought of using this time to talk to Ingrid. Ask about her origin in Ishgard and her reason for staying quiet about her nobility. But when she yawned, she decided against it.

There was always tomorrow.

Clean from their rough travel, they murmured their goodnights, crawling onto the mattress.

Facing each other, Dorothea buried her face into Ingrid’s shoulder, her hot breaths tickling the woman’s neck. The blonde adventurer lazily tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. She smoothed her cheek and watched her sleeping beauty. Ingrid smiled and nuzzled her forehead, pulling her in, and closing her eyes, darkness greeting them with pleasant dreams.

In an adjacent room, Felix sat on the edge of the bed, his gunblade leaning against the opposite wall. His fingers ran through his black hair, staring at Sylvain. Sylvain, leaning on the wall with arms crossed, smiled and chuckled during their exchange.

“…yes, I became commander of Falcon’s Nest,” Sylvain grinned. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because it is,” Felix shook his head. “To think that you would rise up the ranks so quickly…”

The red-head man shrugged. “Then again, it might be because of my relationship with milord.” Anyone who works and serves under any lord is viewed favorably compared to those with little to no references in Ishgard. Sylvain looked down at his metallic boots, one in front of the other. He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, how does it feel to be called the Warrior of Light?”

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing special.”

“Really?”

“If I’m going to be honest, we get more work compared to when we weren’t dubbed as one.” Felix crossed his arms behind his head, plopping on the white mattress, gazing up at the ceiling. Eventually staring at a fixed point, he muttered, “Still, so long as I get to become stronger and protect the weak, then I don’t care what I’m called after.”

“That’s admirable,” Sylvain tilted his head and smiled. “I wish I could join you and Ingrid.”

“Couldn’t you leave Lord Dimitri’s side?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already made my choice,” the Dragoon looked out the glass window. Staring into the black space, he said, “Milord needs me for a reason. It’s unfortunate I can’t travel out of Ishgard for a long time.”

Their conversation continued, albeit changing for another topic, one that delves into their childhood.

Outside of the manor, Byleth trekked through Ishgard, leaving The Pillars. The snow had stopped falling at this time, yet the frosty air stayed. She exhaled. Then, her ears perked up. Noises. Words. She looked around. Faint whispers and off-hand remarks were made at the sight of the Samurai from nearby pedestrians. Well-dressed nobles huddled together, staring at the Warrior of Light.

What brought a foreigner to their enclosed city?

Byleth adjusted her hood to hide her face. She hurried to the inn at the Foundation, bumping into Alphinaud and Tataru along the way.

“Ah, did you find a place that we could use as a headquarter?” Alphinaud asked.

She nodded. “Lord Dimitri is willing to lend us his manor.”

“I see. Well, I’ve also come into contact with Count Edmont de Fortemps. He’s willing to let us use his manor if necessary, though I doubt he has enough room for the ten of us.” The white-haired teenager uncapped his chin and smiled. “It is of good news that you were able to find another place.”

Their exchange came to closure after hearing Tataru yawning, her tiny hands stretched over her head. Alphinaud chuckled and bid them farewell, heading to House Fortemps for the night with Tataru. That left Byleth in the quiet streets once more. But not for long.

“Oh, Master Eisner, you’ve returned,” Mercedes said once Byleth came in. Within the guest room containing three beds, the White Mage sat on the stool near the sleeping Edelgard, Hubert and Lysithea resting on the opposite side. As the Samurai approached her, she placed a hand on Byleth’s arm. “Edelgard is going to be okay. She’s just tired.”

“That’s good to hear. How are her wounds?” Byleth said after pulling the wooden stool over. “They didn’t reopen, did they?”

Mercedes shook her head, to her relief. When asked about Hubert and Lysithea’s status, she too gave a similar response, to her relief again. Seated next to her comrade, the Samurai reached and took Edelgard’s hands. They were warm. Not like before. Byleth raised one up, pressing her lip on it.

“El…”

Safe from danger and freed from her responsibilities, all tension loosened, the stoic façade dropped. She moistened her lips and kissed Edelgard’s hand again, pressing her face into her palm afterward. Byleth squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn’t afford to lose Edelgard. She couldn’t afford to lose anyone dear to her. Losing Jeralt, their band of mercenaries, and other Warriors of Light she’d befriended before the Calamity was too much. It took years until Byleth finally picked up her weapon and title again. To regain the shaky confidence of what made her the Warrior of Light during Bahamut’s awakening.

Yet their hardships did not end there. There was Nanamo’s untimely event from Ul’dah. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn fractured, their fates unknown, save it for Alphinaud and Tataru. Criminal records branded to their names within seconds of the scene. Traitors grinning from ear to ear at the chaos they’ve created.

Byleth stared at her girlfriend. Edelgard still slept soundly, her chest rising and falling at steady intervals. The White Mage widened her eyes when Byleth’s shoulders trembled.

“What’s going to happen to us?” she said quietly into her palm. “Father, what should I do?”

“Master Eisner…” she pulled Byleth close, letting the Botanist lean against her. Palm smoothing her back, the blonde magus looked up at the ceiling, softly exhaling. “Only time will tell. We can only continue onward. For those we’ve lost… and for those we’ve yet saved.”

**[-----]**

The next morning arrived in a blink of an eye. The sky was still dark with its heavy clouds, only the sound of civilians chattering among themselves outside the window signaled the new day. Ingrid struggled to get out under the blanket, the warmth of her lover’s body luring her to stay for eternity.

“Mm… stay with me, babe,” Dorothea slurred and hooked her arms around Ingrid’s neck. She pulled her down, the Dragoon crashing into her chest. This heavenly sensation nearly seduced her to stay with her. But Ingrid managed to peel her face away from the soft mounds.

“Dorothea?” Her girlfriend was still sleeping, eyes closed, mumbling incoherently. Ingrid’s shoulders slumped and pushed her body off, unhooking her captor’s arms. Before Dorothea could attempt anything again, the young woman kissed her. “You can stay in bed. It’s still early.” Another kiss, this time on the forehead. “I need to do something.”

Dorothea didn’t bother to ask. She curled into a fetal position once Ingrid tucked her in. After all, she is dying to make up the sleep that she’s missed during their getaway.

Ingrid got dressed and adorned her draconic armor once more. Thumb smoothing over her purple helmet, she snuggled it over her head and clicked it in place. Lance sliding onto her back, she headed out of the guest room.

“Ah, you’re awake, Mistress Galatea,” Dedue said and bowed. “Just in time for breakfast with Lord Dimitri, Ignatz, and Sylvain. We have gratins and melted cheese soup to start the morning.”

Her mouth watered and her stomach growled. Yet she waved her hand, still heading out of the manor. “Maybe another day, Dedue. I need to meet up with someone.” The Paladin bowed to her once again before she clicked the door shut.

It was cold. Just how Ishgard always was after the Calamity. Breath visible, Ingrid’s armor clinked as she moved to the Foundation. At the center of the premise, she spotted a familiar figure, staring out to the distance. She picked up the pace and approached them.

“Byleth, isn’t it too early for you to wake up?”

“Are you implying that I’m an old lady?”

Ingrid chuckled and stood next to Byleth, resting her arms on the stone railing. “Nay, but I figured you would value sleep more.” When she shrugged, Ingrid smiled and looked at the architecture. “Amazing how these buildings still stand after the Calamity. You’d think everything would fall apart with the Dragonsong War going on.”

“It’s impressive,” Byleth said. “For Ishgard to still stand, it shows how strong the community is.”

After a short moment of reprise, the veteran looked at Ingrid. The blonde warrior still stared at the structures, her emerald hues never leaving the buildings through her helmet. Byleth’s fingers intertwined and thumbs tapped. Her eyes softened. “I’m sure you did not come here to relax with me.” Ingrid fidgeted. She glanced down and focused on the hard surface.

“Perceptive as always,” she smiled, albeit forced. “I need your advice.”

Byleth tilted her head to the side, letting the wind blow through her teal hair. “I’m all ears,” she said.

Ingrid took a deep breath. She mindlessly traced the cracks on the railing, her eyes shifted to the Samurai. “Do you think it’s wrong to hide who you really are from others?”

“Depends on the context. Did something happen?”

“Yes…” She took another deep breath. “To be honest, I’ve hidden my nobility status from everyone. Until last night when we arrived here.”

“I’ve noticed. You were friendly with Sylvain and his lord.”

“Indeed. Sylvain is my childhood friend, just like Felix. Lord Dimitri was someone Sylvain spoke about a lot through our mails.”

“I bet you’ve lived a luxurious life in The Pillars,” Byleth cupped her chin. “But I’m not sure why you would hide it. You’ve stayed the latter half of your life in Gridania with your party. Knowing about it wouldn’t make much of a difference with your lifestyle, wouldn’t it?”

Leaning forward, she stopped toying on the stone, grimacing. “What if I told you that I’m scared to face the fact that I’m a noble from Ishgard?” She balled her hands into fists. “There’s a reason why I became an adventurer.” Byleth took a step back once Ingrid slammed her fist onto the railing. A couple of pedestrians glanced at their direction, but never stayed to watch. “I didn’t want to be associated with House Galatea. I wanted to walk my own path my own way.”

“Ingrid…”

“What if your parents disapprove you from becoming an adventurer?” she asked sharply. “What if your parents only see you as a woman to bear children for future generations? To be a housewife, to stay home, to be a doormat to your husband until you die on your deathbed?” Ingrid pounded the railing again. “I’ll be damned! They’re so ingrained in tradition that they’ve tried everything in their power to change me for who I am!”

The physical abuse that whipped her to wear pretty dresses for her suitors. The emotional abuse that whipped her to bow down for her suitors. The psychological abuse that whipped her to become docile for her suitors. They tried to morph her into a daughter that would carry their legacy into the next generation. All so they can rise in political power and stand next to the four great Houses.

Ingrid whipped her bruised hand out and snarled. “So, I left them! I ran to Gridania— to New Gridania, to become a Lancer with Sylvain! I swore to continue staying true to who I am without compromising my ideologies.” The Dragoon laughed. “But here I am in Ishgard again, fated to be back. Just imagine how they would feel knowing that I got together with another woman? And a commoner at that too!”

“Ingrid…!” Byleth grabbed her shoulders firmly. Looking directly at her mask where her eyes would be, she shook her head. “Don’t let fear cloud your judgment. You don’t have to face your parents again— your family or the House of Galatea, even if we’re here. We’ll protect you!”

“But what if your past haunts you?” Her voice dipped almost to that of a whisper. It was easier said than done “I’m scared, Byleth!”

The Samurai’s eyes widened.

Fear. Something she was all too familiar with. The history she’d experienced with Jeralt and her mercenary band. The pleasant companies with other Warriors of Light during the Sixth Astral Era. The night terrors that woke the screaming Byleth. Byleth recalled the time when she decided to throw away her past. How Byleth shoved them to the far corner of her memory bank, donning the Botanist attire, ready for a tranquil, uneventful day at New Gridania.

In a way, Ingrid was like a reflection of herself.

Byleth’s grip loosened. “Ingrid,” she said. “I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that.” Then, she pulled her into a hug. This came as a surprise. But it was something Ingrid didn’t know she needed. The Dragoon, standing straight with arms to her side, rested her chin on Byleth’s sturdy shoulder, elongating her sigh. Byleth continued, “It must be painful to remember it all.”

“It is,” she croaked, hot tears running down her cheeks. “I never wanted to be from House Galatea. I never wanted to be born like this.”

If anything, she wanted to forget it all.

After a period of silence, they parted, and Byleth forced a smile. “We all have to face our past some day,” she said. “Even if we don’t want to.” Just as she said that, the ghosts from those she’s known and cherished wrapped a noose around her neck. Byleth’s eyes wearily stared at the Dragoon. “Just know that we’re here for you.” The invisible band tightened. “I won’t let you walk down this path on your own.”

Footsteps approached them. They turned to the newcomer. Seeing who it was, Byleth patted Ingrid on the shoulder, flashing another strained smile, and departed. Dorothea immediately replaced Byleth and faced her girlfriend.

“Dorothea,” Ingrid said and wiped her wet cheeks. “I didn’t realize you were already awake.” She must’ve spoken to Byleth longer than expected. A glance at the sky told her everything. The sun had risen, dispersing some of the dark clouds, its rays illuminating the slow Ishgardian streets. She rubbed her neck and asked, “Did you need me for something?”

The young woman leaned forward and cupped Ingrid’s face in response. “Oh, Ingrid, I heard everything,” Dorothea’s thumbs gently brushed against her dried tears. She pressed a fleeting kiss on her lips. With wide eyes, Ingrid shook her head and tried to push her lover away. “Not here, Dorothea! What if they see us?” she whispered. “And they tell my parents about you?”

“Are you scared of them?”

“More so for what they would do to you,” the adventurer held onto her shoulders and tried to push her again. “You don’t know what they could do to you.”

But Dorothea stayed rooted. The Scholar, in lieu, firmly held Ingrid’s face. She leaned forward once more. This time, she planted a long, tender kiss on her lips. “Don’t you worry a thing about me, babe,” she smiled. “I can take care of myself. Besides, I have you to protect me, my knight in shining armor.”

“Dorothea…”

Dorothea ushered her into an embrace. Arms wrapped around the warrior, she rubbed her back in silence.

But their hugs and respite lasted until Lysithea crashed into the two older females. The white-haired girl managed to knock them off their feet. Ingrid was grateful she wore her helmet, lest she earns herself a concussion from the fall.

“L-Lysithea?” she groaned and propped herself with her elbows. “What’s going on?”

Lysithea, who had fallen squarely on top of Dorothea, who had fallen on top of Ingrid, bounced back to her feet. The Summoner, adorned in her thick coat and scarf, motioned to one of Ishgard’s bridges that led from one tower to another. Ingrid and Dorothea squinted. A black blur. No, make that two black blurs. Red flames puffed out of them, lighting the length. Then, the ground started to tremble, the dragon’s screech echoing to where they stood.

The three scrambled to their feet. Just as they straightened their backs, Temple Knights rushed from their positions, their weapons raised and orders barked. Who knew that the Dravanians would strike today?

“To think they would directly attack Ishgard,” Ingrid mumbled and looked at Lysithea. The morning that should have greeted them with sunshine retreated, the clouds looming over them at an alarming rate. She bit her lip and asked, “Are you well enough to fight?”

She unhooked one of the two grimoires on her waist and nodded. “I’m okay. I should be able to summon Garuda.” After all, she only needed to rest, unlike Edelgard and Hubert.

As if on cue, Felix came running to the scene, followed by Sylvain, Dimitri, Dedue, and Ignatz.

“We have to deal with the dragons, now,” Felix glared. At the same time, Sylvain pushed upon the top of his helmet, the dragonlancer visor secured over his eyes and chin. “I got this,” the red-head man said. He unhooked his lance and walked to the edge of the railing.

Ignatz pulled out his book and quickly cast invigorations and buff spells on the Dragoon as Sylvain glanced over his shoulder. After his third spell, Sylvain gave a thumbs up to the Scholar. “I’ll keep up the frontline until you all can make it to the bridge.” He returned his gaze to the two dragons. No… Now, there were three. His grip tightened on the lance and grumbled, “Don’t keep me waiting, Warriors of Light.”

Sylvain disappeared. He high jumped to the nearest tower. When he leaped again to another tower, the Dragoons joined him, the few available men and women stationed in the heart of Ishgard.

Shortly after his departure, a storm rumbled overhead, the rain greeting them in his place. Dimitri glanced at his comrades with a frown.

“Dedue,” he flicked his arms out. “Make sure everyone in the Foundation is indoor. We can’t afford to lose unnecessary lives here.”

As the Paladin saluted and dashed away, Dimitri looked to Ignatz. “Find Ser Aymeric and alert him of the attack. Try to rally as many Temple Knights and Dragoons to the frontline.” The Scholar bowed and took his leave.

Then, he turned to Ingrid, Lysithea, Felix, and Dorothea. He faintly smiled. No words were needed as Felix motioned to his Light Party. The three followed after the Gunbreaker, their travel long from the Foundation to the bridge afar. That left Lord Blaiddyd to swiftly head back to The Pillars.

Many House representatives and lords ran to the center of the premise, their hands waving wildly, soldiers and civilians running by them. Dimitri narrowed his eyes and approached them. Unlike his comrades, who fought in wars and battles, his battle stood with those at politics.

“May the Crystal guide us all,” he said just as the strong gust ruffled his blonde hair.

And his words traveled to the four running adventurers. They ran as fast as their legs could take them. Every turn and shortcut made, guided by Felix and Ingrid.

Felix grunted and grabbed the light pole, swinging his body to the left. Ingrid followed his similar action, Dorothea and Lysithea running after them at their own pace.

Their boots stomped upon the stairs as they climbed, some skipping each step with every move.

Darkness greeted them, but only briefly, as they traveled through the narrow corridors.

The Gunbreaker slammed into the wooden door, flinging it open, and cut through the building’s hall.

Another burst out the door and the four jumped down from the second floor, rolling or landing on their feet.

“We’re here!” he said.

They made one last turn to the right, their hands brushing the battered walls of the passage’s shelter. As Dorothea and Lysithea gasped for breath, Felix and Ingrid stepped forward, observing the battlefield.

High above the ground, the storm poured water onto the two’s heads, their sight limited. But they could see their enemies and allies. A wave of destruction rolled across the bridge. Dragons breathed fire and chomped up soldiers. Temple Knights sliced and stabbed the scaly creatures. Despite the rain, flames spread throughout the rocky surface, licking and engulfing the dead.

One dead dragon. A dozen dead knights.

It was a losing battle from the Ishgardians to the Dravanians.

“You guys ready?” Felix asked.

The two females straightened their posture and slowed their breaths. Lysithea chanted a spell, summoning Garuda, the miniature wind primal standing ready. Dorothea cracked open her own book, summoning her faeries, Eos and Selene, to battle. The faeries chirped their greetings to their master. Their smiles quickly faltered at the sight of the large beasts.

“Gosh, are we seriously going to fight against them?!” Eos winced.

Selene elbowed her ally and sighed. “Does it look like we have a choice?”

“But they’re so big and scary!”

“Not with Dorothy here!”

Dorothea’s palm began to glow white and she reeled it behind her other arm. Lysithea’s grimoire rapidly flipped to its destined pages as her palm began to emit purple light. Garuda hovered next to her owner, the primal beginning to store its wind energy. In front of them, Ingrid and Felix unhooked their weapons, their gunblade and lance swung down.

Some injured soldiers were dragged away from the fight by their comrades, passing the four Warriors of Light. But most stayed with them. They’d crash into the enemies, trying to press them back.

Yet it was a futile attempt. Their bones crunched and their screams echoed into the dark morning. High-pitched screeches filled the polluted air full of smoke and iron. It was never going to end until death claimed all of one side.

A strong wind blew at the adventurers’ direction, blowing their hair back. One of the two surviving dragons welcomed them with its presence. Large, red, and tall, the creature screeched and flapped its two wings.

Felix bent his knees. He pulled back his gunblade, his other arm shielding his face from the gust. Unfazed, the blonde Dragoon twirled her lance, drawing her lips to a line. “Let’s finish this,” she said.

Ingrid jumped and disappeared into the clouds high above. At that instance, a blast of hot air puffed from Felix’s blade, the color of blue enveloping his weapon. He dashed forward with incredible speed. Felix roared and slammed the gunblade into the red beast’s thick skin. A crunching sound followed afterward. Blood drawn from the strike, the dragon howled and lunged its jaws at him.

But Lysithea intercepted with Bio. She ran forward and swung her hand out. Poison seeped into the creature’s being, shaking its core, the burning sensation spreading throughout its bones and muscles. The dragon snapped the air with its sharp teeth instead. Blood oozed from its mouth and nostrils, howling once more, pounding the ground with its massive tail.

“Lysithea!” Dorothea extended her hand out. A blue barrier rattled over Lysithea’s head, the dragon’s wild claws smashing against it, cracking the shield. The Scholar grimaced and conjured another spell, strengthening the shield. “Pick on someone your own size!” Dorothea yelled and commanded Eos to stay with Lysithea.

Lysithea, now under newfound protection, cast Miasma. The dragon cried out and slammed its tail once more, shaking the ground they stood on. She struggled to keep her balance as Felix hollered at the beast. “Always going after the weak ones, aren’t you?” he said. Felix jumped and slammed his blade against its head with success, the sharp edges cutting through the scales.

He continued to swipe at the beast over and over. Chunks of flesh flew out with each hit and pull, tossing blood into the air. During his strikes, he slowly walked sideways, driving the dragon to face its back towards his comrades.

“!”

Felix hastily raised his gunblade. He grimaced and bit his cheek hard, the creature’s claws slamming on him. Blood spilled from the corner of his lip and his arms shook violently.

But this was nothing. He growled and strained his muscles, shoving the beast’s limb off. His index finger curled inward at the trigger. A blast of electricity crackled through the blade.

“Eat this!”

Felix jutted his gunblade and cleanly pierced its chest.

The instant he tore his blade out, blood flowed out of its gaping hole. A loud roar tore through the raging weather, the dragon digging and scraping its claws into the bridge.

Felix leaped back a foot. The Gunbreaker swung the gunblade down, popping out the empty bullets, and fished for new ammunition in his pouch. Six aetherially imbued cartridges in his grasp, he reloaded.

But it took some time for Felix. And this was sufficient time for the enemy.

It parted its menacing mouth once it glared at Felix. Fire mixed with its crimson fluids spilled from its jaws. The massive beast immediately blew flames at Felix, the smoke and vicious heat enveloping the tank.

“AGH!”

He shielded his face as it scorched his fluttering white overcoat. It was hot. Unbearably hot. The rain could not spare him from the blast. If Felix hadn’t dug his boots into the ground, he would’ve dropped to his knees, wailing for the stinging pain to stop.

Felix glared at the dragon with ragged breaths. The red monster screeched at him. It opened its mouth once more.

“Not on my watch!” Lysithea said.

Palm out, Ruin spells shot fast at the creature. Another spell flew alongside the Ruin. The power of cutting wind slammed hard into the screeching beast. Lysithea and Garuda continued to tag-team, the two shooting magic at the dragon.

“Felix!” Dorothea rushed out and extended her hand out in the background. A cooling effect washed over his trembling figure. At that same moment, their Dragoon slammed into the beast’s neck, her lance shredding through its thick skin and muscles. Ingrid gritted her teeth as the dragon thrashed. Attention off Felix for a short while, the Scholar ran in the splashing rain, quickly casting a protective barrier over the huddled adventurer. She hovered her hand over his bright red skins, conjuring Cure. “You think you can still stand?”

“Who do you think I am?” He straightened his back and clicked his gunblade. Raising the hybrid weapon at the trampling dragon, he glanced at Dorothea. “So long as you support me, I will be okay.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.” But he was right. As a healer, her job was to maintain the group’s rhythm, keeping them invigorated and energized throughout the battle.

Selene sighed and fluttered to Felix. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Many thanks,” Dorothea said.

Felix nodded to his new companion. Another invigorating spell was cast upon him by the faerie as his knuckles whitened. He rushed back into the battle by slamming his gunblade again into the beast. Ingrid, still on the dragon’s back, twisted her lance with an iron grip.

The dragon’s screech pitched an octave. A couple of steps were taken. The red creature’s eyes rolled back into its head, crying one more time to the world. Soon, its shaky limbs collapsed, its head the last to slam on the foundation.

Ingrid tore her weapon out. A splash of crimson splattered on her draconic armor as she jumped off of the creature. Felix breathed deeply and wiped the water from his furrowed brows. The second dragon that the Temple Knights fended had also died, mortal wounds lacerated all over its body.

The Light Party sighed. Soon, all trace from the battle would be washed away, the rain thrumming throughout the land. But their features paled when they looked to their right.

Past the bridge, six more dragons approached. This time, one of them seemingly larger than the ones they’d disposed of.

“Are you serious?” Dorothea took a step back. “We’re not done yet?”

Sylvain suddenly plopped next to Felix and Ingrid. Blood of the draconic beasts on his black armors, the red-head looked to his childhood friends.

“You think you can handle another round of dragons?” he asked.

Felix beat his chest. “We can handle anything that comes in our way.” To which Sylvain chuckled and pointed his lance at the rapidly approaching group. “Of course you guys are. You’re the Warriors of Light. Show me what you’re made of.”

He ran towards the edge of the bridge. Sylvain launched himself off with a grand leap. High into the air, the first dragon that came close to the bridge was greeted with his lance, the jagged edges tearing into its muscles. He was shortly followed by two other Dragoons from his squadron, the large beast flailing in the air, slowly descending.

Felix adjusted his stance. Lysithea dryly swallowed and flipped through her grimoire. As for Dorothea, she began to cast buffs, Eos and Selene prepared to provide supporting spells. Ingrid tapped the tip of her lance onto the bricked path. She drew her lip to a line and murmured, “Let’s show everyone what we can do.”

There was another screech. Unfortunately, a glance over their shoulders nearly gave them a heart attack, the sight of another group of equally sized dragons approaching them.

It was a trap from the Dravanians! They were closing in on the warriors from both sides!

Lysithea cursed herself and continued to rummage through her grimoire with faint mumbles. Dorothea broke out into cold sweat amidst the rain. “As if this couldn’t get any worse… you just had to show up!” the Scholar groaned. “Just… don’t try to die on me, you guys. Please?”

“Pfft, you better not let us die,” Ingrid said.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “You jest. I’m not built on endless supplies of magic, you know!”

Their complaints were cut short when a dragon zipped to them. Faster than the other, the gray beast snarled, opening its mouth wide.

“DAMMIT!”

It came too fast. Dorothea could not raise the barrier up in time. Flames blew at them, engulfing the entirety of the bridge in scorching heat.

At least, that was what was supposed to happen.

The dragon’s flames instantly froze. Ice traveled from the ends, quickly climbing into its mouth, to its throat, and into the creature’s innards. It chortled an inhumane wail and thrashed its arms around in the air. Overhead, an electrical current shot at the dragon, amplified from its drenched skin.

Ingrid, Felix, Dorothea, and Lysithea looked behind. A familiar Black Mage stood from the distance. His fingers crackled with electricity as he reeled his hand back. Hubert thrust his hand out and shot another lightning at the dragon. The pungent smell of burning flesh spread throughout the area as it struggled to stay on its feet. It jerked and shuddered from its newfound paralysis.

Two figures dashed past Hubert. Their arms pulled back as one stood in front of the other.

Edelgard smashed her large axe into the dragon’s breast, causing it to stumble into the walls, the borders crumbling from its immense weight. Byleth swiftly unsheathed her katana and flicked her wrist. A burst of cherry blossoms fluttered around her with her slash, the flowers stained in crimson.

But it was not the mortal wounds that killed the dragon. Thunderstorms rumbled into their area as the dragon howled, its claws scratched frantically on the edges, eventually slipping and falling off the bridge. The recently-joined adventurers straightened their backs and faced the other Light Party.

“Did we come at the right time?” Byleth asked.

Felix scoffed. “Anytime is right for us. I’m glad you guys are our reinforcement.” He scanned their surroundings and noticed the other dragons nearing. With narrowed eyes, the Gunbreaker readjusted his stance. “But is Hubert and Edelgard well? I thought they were out of commission.”

“They insisted,” the Samurai sighed. “Especially El.”

“Can you both please stop talking as if I’m not here?” Edelgard lightly smacked Byleth on the arm. “I’m more concerned about you here. You didn’t take your potion for the day.”

Byleth shrugged. “Speak for yourself first. Though I’m surprised you’d heal so well…”

Edelgard plopped her axe onto the pavement and stared at her girlfriend with raised brows. “Of course you would be surprised. You didn’t even trust me until I showed it to you.”

“I would if you didn’t flaunt your naked self at me with such vigor—”

“What— Don’t exaggerate!”

“I’m not though?”

“Byleth!”

“Okay, lovebirds,” Lysithea rolled her eyes while flipping through the wet pages. “There’s a time and place for everything.”

Just as she finished, a strong gust blew into them. Lysithea gasped and was blown away from the bridge with Hubert. The Temple Knights lost their balance and tumbled. Some unlucky few rolled over the bridge’s walls, falling to their deaths. Dorothea nearly met their fate too had it not been for her knight. Ingrid launched at Dorothea, pulled her in close, and slammed her lance onto the ground just inches away from the open edge. A shaky white mist puffed from the blonde’s mouth as she hung for dear life. Felix, Byleth, Mercedes, and Edelgard had dug their respective weapon onto the ground and braced against the raging wind.

Dragoons that joined the skirmish fought against the unpredictable weather. Sylvain twisted the lance and forced the dragon to fly over the bridge. A squelching tear shredded through the creature as he leaped off. Grime splattered on his soiled attire, the commander rejoined the grounded Temple Knights and Warriors of Light. But a large shadow hovered over them. At the size of half the bridge, this was when the real slaughter began.

Sylvain felt as if all of his bones fracture and veins ruptured. The huge four-winged black dragon snapped at the Dragoon with its elongated fangs. His entire body was punctured and stabbed in a single bite! Sylvain weakly swung and beat at the beast with his lance while screaming for help. And he wasn’t going to be the only victim.

More soldiers were blown away once the beast landed. Byleth gasped as a needle-like pain stabbed her old injury, her grip loosening on the katana. She stumbled backward. Edelgard noticed immediately and reached out to Byleth.

Their fingertips brushed.

“NO!”

The Samurai flew off of the bridge, leaving behind her sword. Edelgard cursed as her white hair wildly whipped with the wind until seconds later. The humongous beast stared its bright red eyes at the remaining five adventurers. The group felt their heart stop once they heard another crunch from Sylvain’s direction. His screaming subsided to weak moaning, the light almost disappearing from his eyes.

Felix gritted his teeth. Something stirred inside of him. Like a thirst, a physical need. His gunblade was enveloped in an explosive amount of magic. The Gunbreaker charged with a roar like others had never witnessed. Red colored his vision as he struck a series of quick, powerful blows, like a drummer pounding out a furious rhythm.

Edelgard joined the fray as she threw her axe at the dragon’s neck. The creature parted its mouth from the tanks’ heavy strikes. Sylvain fell from a great height. Ingrid parted with Dorothea and rescued him with a jump. She landed roughly near Mercedes with Sylvain in her arms.

“He’s sustained too much damage!” Mercedes said with a frown. “Bring him away from the bridge!”

Ingrid nodded. The two briskly hurried away from the battlefield. One of the dragons swooped past the army of Dragoons and tried to grab any of the three. Ingrid, with her arms full, cursed.

“Not on my watch!” Mercedes whipped her staff around. At that instant, a huge stone appeared from thin air, crashing into the smaller beast. It squealed at the sudden impact and was sent flying out of their sight.

With the dragon gone, they quickly retreated.

The passage offered a small shelter from the wet rain, their hairs clinging to their wet skin. It was also a shelter full of injured and dying knights. Mercedes drew her lip to a line. This tragedy brought by this bloody skirmish, it was horrifying.

Mercedes snapped back to reality once they’d bumped into the three missing adventurers.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Hubert struggled to get up onto his feet. Next to him, Byleth and Lysithea laid on the ground, groggily getting up onto their hands. His hand rested on his bloodied forehead with a grimace. “It appears that I might have hit my head a little harder than expected.” Hubert removed his hands and stared at his crimson fingers. “But otherwise, I am okay.”

“You don’t feel dizzy?”

He shook his head. “No, but nevermind about me. I’m more concerned about the man you have in your arms,” he said while Ingrid lowered Sylvain.

Mercedes observed the injured. Holes littered all over his body as if someone threw him into a pit full of spears. The iron stench strengthened once she peeled his armor off with Hubert’s assistance.

Ingrid gasped. Mangled flesh with chunks of broken bones piercing his figure. It would be a miracle to spot a part of his body that stayed intact. She covered her mouth and looked elsewhere.

It was not a new sight, but to have it happen to someone she cherished… Bile bubbled into her throat. Ingrid shut her eyes and desperately shoved the acid that threatened to strain her empty stomach.

“Horrible…” she whispered.

Byleth and Lysithea finally got up and shook their heads. Mercedes shot a quick glance. They possessed barely any injuries, save for a bruise or two from their fall. Lysithea reached down to grab her grimoire as Byleth popped a Hi-Potion from her pouch.

“If there’s anything I wouldn’t do to get rid of this handicap,” she grumbled after downing the pink fluid.

Lysithea raised her brow. “Is your wound acting up again?”

“It always has been.” She threw the empty container aside and heard it shatter. “All the more reason to finish this battle.”

Ingrid unhooked her stained lance and walked to Byleth’s side. “I’ll make it pay for what it’s done to Sylvain.” She squeezed her weapon. “I want to kill it before it hurts anyone else.” They agreed with her.

The three looked to Hubert. He motioned to Mercedes and Sylvain. “I think it would be best if I stand guard here. In case any of those beasts slip through the bridge.”

As the three ran towards conflict, he stepped until he stood in-between the bridge and the sheltered passage. He had always stayed by Edelgard’s side as her loyal manservant since coming to the Hresvelg family. Yet he could not leave the White Mage behind.

Hubert cracked his knuckles with the screeches and howls of lesser dragons filling the deathly atmosphere. Two of them bypassed Ingrid, Lysithea, and Byleth from overhead at an alarming speed.

His eyes widened and swiped the air. A blast of cold air slammed into the two beasts. Frost covered their wings, sending the pair spiraling down to the ground. The foundation shook from their weight.

Hubert fingers chilled as droplets fell from his wet bangs. He smiled. “You’re finished.”

Meanwhile, Ingrid, Byleth, and Lysithea neared the bridge. They needn’t say anything. Lysithea slowed her pace as Byleth angled her direction. The Dragoon swung her lance back and sped forward.

On the bridge, the black dragon sustained some form of damage. Cuts and stab wounds scattered among its large, scaled skin. But it was not enough. It exhaled, its flames trickling out from its mouth, its red eyes still burning with fury.

Felix and Edelgard stood in front of the creature with unsteady burnt legs. Their grip on their chipped weapons shook with exhaustion. Dorothea, a couple of feet away, spat blood and wiped her mouth. She had switched between her Scholar and Dancer job frequently, the young woman now a Dancer. Yet she struggled to juggle the two roles during the same battle.

She had to invigorate the two tanks again. And she had to make sure the dragon won’t headbutt her again during the process. Dorothea’s attire swapped to the long robes once more.

“Ah—” Her knees buckled. The Scholar hadn’t the strength to catch herself. But she needn’t worry. A strong grip pulled her upward. Dorothea looked. Then, she weakly smiled. “I knew my knight in shining armor would come.”

Ingrid smiled. “Can you continue supporting us?” Dorothea nodded. “Good. Here’s a Hi-Ether. Figured you need it.”

“Thanks,” she said. She quickly downed the foul substance and stuffed the empty container into her pouch. The wet book cracked open. Soon, Eos and Selene were summoned, their expressions grim. “Don’t worry, ladies,” Dorothea said to her faeries and whipped her hand, strengthening spells cast upon those around her. “I won’t change my job anymore.”

“Good!” Eos said with arms crossed. “I’m about to be nauseous for the constant calling!”

Dorothea ignored her complaint and cast healing spells on the Warrior and Gunbreaker. The two tanks felt their body become lighter as they dodged the dragon’s fire.

“Thanks for holding up the frontline,” Byleth said after joining them.

Edelgard glanced at her. Then, she smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t be out for long.”

The dragon pounded on the bridge with its tail, knocking off the last remaining knights that stood on the platform. The same could be said for this beast, the surviving Dragoons making a suicidal strike to take the dragons down with them.

Thunder rumbled above their head. Then, Felix made the first move. He used the wet pavement to slide towards the dragon. Aetherially imbued cartridges popped into his hybrid firearm swiftly. He pulled on the trigger and raised the gunblade. The blade sliced into the sensitive belly with ease in comparison to the beast’s thicker scale layer.

It tried to crush him by dropping its entire weight. Yet it was greeted by the Dragoon. Dorothea hastily created a magic circle and increased the effectiveness of Ingrid’s body and weapon. Then, she commanded both Eos and Selene to continuously cast healing spells to the frontliners. All during Ingrid’s ascent to the beast’s head. The jump dropped Ingrid down onto its skull. However, that was not her target. She aimed directly at one of its eyes, piercing it.

“Whoa!” Ingrid barely held on as it thrashed. Luckily, Felix had exited on the opposite end, missing his crushing fate by a hair. “Dammit, couldn’t you have waited just a second later, Ingrid!?” he yelled and scrambled to his feet. “I could’ve died!”

But she could not respond. The blonde Dragoon dug her free hand into the scaled head. She secured her grip and twisted until the eye exploded, ripping out her lance the instant the beast stopped moving. Ingrid growled, full of fury, and stabbed her weapon deep into its head, saving her from being flung off the bridge.

“Now!” Dorothea said.

Light as a feather thanks to another buffing spell, Edelgard and Byleth rushed head-first, the Warrior reeling her arm back. She roared and buried the axehead into its open wounds. And she was relentless. Edelgard struck and struck! The gash the dragon had opened until its bones could be seen by all. Quite an ugly sight.

Byleth swiped at the creature until her blade trembled. She took a couple of steps back. Katana sheathed, she pivoted her feet and bent her knees until she stood in a horse stance. Her navy eyes never left the dragon.

The black beast raised its claws and slammed it onto the Samurai. But Edelgard was there to block and deflect it. She knocked it aside with a swing of her axe. Felix also struck its backside, their enemy quickly switching to defensive measures. Ingrid had also been busy. She swung the lance down with one hand, jamming the jagged edges into the beast’s crimson eyes. Ingrid yanked with great force. Its eye burst from the pressure.

And the dragon screamed.

The dragon screamed so loud…!

Ingrid was wracked with intense pain from her ears. The Dragoon grunted and stumbled off, landing next to Dorothea roughly on her stomach.

“Ingrid!”

The blonde woman held her head and shook it, noticing her helmet had cracked and chipped, an emerald eye exposed. She slowly got up with Dorothea’s assistance. Ingrid looked at her girlfriend. Dorothea’s mouth moved, but there was no sound. The Scholar frowned and reached out. Blood stained her fingers from touching her stained cheek, the source flowing from her ears.

“Oh gosh… I have to heal you quickly.”

Dorothea immediately cast white magic on the afflicted warrior and pulled her to safety. Felix shortly rejoined Edelgard and Byleth as the beast stomped and pounded its limbs and tail. The two tanks protecting the Samurai, the teal-haired woman narrowed her eyes.

She exposed the katana’s blade.

Mikdare Setsugekka.

Colors burst from her singular, horizontal strike. Byleth stood in her fluttering red robe, the cut blowing a strong gust to those around her. Once she sheathed her weapon, blood violently poured from the beast’s new infliction. It furiously screeched and swung its head around. Its sight lost, its body gravely wounded, and its life greeted with death, the dragon shrieked.

“Is it… over?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth rested her hand on the katana’s handle and stared at the dying beast. She frowned. Then, when it opened its mouth, its flames leaked, a bright light, brighter than the sun, trickled from the bottom of its throat. Byleth widened her eyes and took a step back.

“No! We need to hide!”

Byleth grabbed Edelgard’s hand and pulled her away. Felix followed after her. Though they had slain the beast, the dragon had a trump card to play. Byleth knew this all too well when she had visited Ishgard before the Calamity. With the dragon’s dying breath, it shall take down all with it. And this final strike was impossible to stop.

“Everyone, stay back!” Lysithea said. “Dorothea, back us up!”

The Scholar stood alongside the Summoner. Dorothea brought up the familiar blue barrier around them with both hands raised over her head. As for Lysithea, she closed her eyes, impressed her hand on the grimoire, and chanted.

“Come forth, Bahamut!”

A large magic circle formed in front of them. The air stilled. Byleth felt her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach when she saw the primal once more. It was smaller and neon blue to boot, but the pressure it exerted, it was almost exactly like the one that had caused the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

The same primal that wiped everyone except her from the battlefield.

“Byleth?!” Edelgard held onto her girlfriend, her eyes wide as Byleth trembled in her grasp. “What’s wrong?”

“No… I just… didn’t expect to see it again…”

This wasn’t that primal. This wasn’t it. This was a demi-primal Lysithea summoned. A primal bound to Lysithea’s will. Byleth deathly gripped her girlfriend’s arm as Lysithea and Dorothea protected the group.

Lysithea felt the blood surge into her mouth. She couldn’t stop it seeping out from the corner of her lips, the Summoner pushing her limited energy into summoning Bahamut. The white-haired girl struggled to stay upright as she shakily reached for her Hi-Either. She spat the excess blood and downed the content, its pungent taste strong after mixing with iron. It shattered next to her boot as Lysithea motioned to her Demi-Bahamut.

“Take it out!” she yelled.

And it responded. The neon primal flew in front of the group. Its massive wings flapped, blowing against the charging dragon. So did this Demi-Bahamut, a familiar white light crawling from the bottom of its throat.

Its owner quickly cast a spell to hasten its charging, moving its stored energy to its mouth at the same time as when the dragon had.

Dorothea’s knuckles turned white as she cast another layer under their current barrier. She bit her lower lip and braced for impact.

The instant they shot at each other, the amount of heat could easily disintegrate those unfortunate to stand by it, the two splashing their attacks onto the shields. Lysithea poured her magic reserve into her summon, the Demi-Bahamut pressing onward. The dragon too fought hard, its flames threatening to shake the stalemate to its favor.

Dorothea watched the first barrier break. She grimaced and fortified the second one, ready to summon another. But the blast came crashing endlessly on it. Dorothea gasped. Her arms were thrown back, the shield shattering almost instantly. Another shield was barely recreated before it touched their faces.

“This is exactly like Louisoix’s…” Byleth couldn’t finish her sentence, staring at Dorothea.

But unlike him, Dorothea was going to live. And she was going to do so much more than just live.

“I’ll keep you all safe!” she said with sweat pouring. “I promise you, I won’t let anyone die!”

Her arms were burning and it was hot. Way too hot. They were violently shaking as she chanted one… two… three more barriers. Just like Lysithea, blood pooled into her mouth, leaking from the corners. Dorothea squinted her eyes and dug her heels into the ground. She felt a hand touch her shoulder. Another Hi-Ether bottle was pressed into her mouth.

“And I won’t let you die either,” Ingrid said.

Dorothea strained a smile after drinking the Ether. “Who do you take me as?”

Lysithea conjured one last magic to her primal. The light enveloped their vision, the wind blowing all of their hairs back.

Everything blanked out. It lasted for nearly a whole minute. Everyone, especially Mercedes and Hubert, wondered about the aftermath.

The Black Mage hurried to them once the light dimmed.

“Lady Edelgard…!” His tense shoulders slumped. The Warrior stood in the same spot, her arms wrapped around her teacher, keeping the unconscious Byleth close. Edelgard turned to him as he placed a hand on his chest. “Milady, I am glad to see that you are doing well.”

“The same could be said for you,” she smiled. “But I’m not sure about Byleth.”

“Is she injured?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. She didn’t sustain any damage during our battle.”

“Hm, she must be tired then,” he extended his hands. “Allow me to carry her to the inn.”

“No, let me.”

“But Lady Edelgard—”

“Hubert,” she sighed. “I can carry her. She’s not heavy.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, but very well,” he turned to look at the others.

Ingrid and Felix carried Dorothea and Lysithea in their arms respectively, the four approaching the others. Compared to the unconscious Lysithea in Felix’s arms, Dorothea and Ingrid were a lot more lively.

“I swear, you always worry me sick,” Ingrid scolded Dorothea. The drowsy Scholar patted her on the face. If her hands were full, she would have pulled on Dorothea’s cheeks. Hard. But she settled with a loud sigh and looked to Hubert and Edelgard. “I’m going to take her to Dimitri’s home.” Then, she paused. “...How’s Sylvain?”

Hubert shifted his gaze. “Mercedes is still with him.” He looked back at her. “It’s best we seek for more Healers to tend to his wounds. She can only do so much on her own.”

“I have that covered.”

Dimitri approached them. From behind, various Healers and other Temple Knights hurried into the passage, taking them into the infirmary and inn by stretcher. One White Mage approached Mercedes even, offering to heal her of internal injuries that might occur from straining her use with magic. At the sight of Sylvain placed on the stretcher, Dimitri’s expression darkened.

“Sylvain…” he closed his eyes.

“Do you think he’s going to be alright?” Felix asked.

He slowly exhaled. “I do not know,” he said. “Only time will tell.”

**[-----]**

It has been one week since the event that transpired from the bridge in Ishgard.

Ser Aymeric, Alphinaud, and Tataru were well aware of the attacks, their efforts with Dimitri countering any stray dragons that managed to attack other parts of the city. Yet they were kept busy. Political movements within the orthodox church had to proceed. And there were the four major Houses that discussed their next course of action with the Dravanians. It was a busy time for them. It at least granted a moment of reprise for the Warriors of Light, their wears becoming casual.

But Alphinaud and Ser Aymeric apologized for their lack of helpfulness during the situation the one night they were free from their duties.

“If only we were faster, we could’ve been there for you,” Alphinaud said.

Felix responded by ruffling the elezen’s hair. Alphinaud tried to shake the Gunbreaker’s hand off, only to be greeted with it again.

“Don’t fret about it,” Felix smiled. “If anything, I’m glad you’ve thought it through with Ishgard. The bridge was only one part of Ishgard’s defense.”

Their success wouldn’t have mattered if the rest of the city were destroyed.

As he spoke to Alphinaud, Sylvain appeared from behind in crutches, gently bopping Felix’s shoulder.

“Sylvain!” Felix’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting inside the manor?”

The red-head shook his head. “Nah, I figured a little walk outside would be good.” He pointed his thumb at himself. “The Healers told me that I’m recovering nicely.”

“I’m surprised, honestly. You must’ve been lucky…”

And Lady Luck played a huge role in his life. Sylvain would have died if Mercedes hadn’t constantly patched him up for prolonged periods. The nonstop casting of Cure and intensive usage of the expensive X-Potions kept him alive long enough to be treated at the infirmary. Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Sylvain thanked the White Mage for her tireless service. It was unfortunate that she found herself bedridden at the inn for a week straight to recover her strength. The same could be said for Lysithea.

“Ugh, I hate how my body is so weak,” Lysithea said and stared at the ceiling. “What I wouldn’t do to be stronger.”

“It’s unfortunate not everyone’s body is born the same way,” Mercedes said.

The two sharing the same bedroom, they laid on opposite sides of the premise. Mercedes intertwined her fingers and placed them over her chest. She turned to look at the Summoner. Lysithea wasn’t looking at her. Instead, she frowned, still staring at the ceiling.

“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “And for the record, I wasn’t born like this, okay?”

“You weren’t?”

“...forget I said anything.”

“Lysithea?”

She wasn’t going to get an answer from her anymore, the white-haired teenager turning away from Mercedes. Lysithea faced the plain colored wall with her lips drawn into a line. The Summoner deepened her frown and cursed under her breath. However, their silence held no longer than ten minutes with the introduction of a guest.

Hubert opened the door with fruits at hand.

“Oh, how rare of you to bring them to us,” Mercedes said with clasped hands. “Usually you would only give them to Edelgard.”

He scoffed. “She didn’t want any. Consider it a gift from her.”

“Aren’t you a nice man,” Lysithea rolled her eyes, back still facing the others.

“That’s just how he is.”

“Please stop speaking as if I’m not here.”

It was at that point Lysithea wondered how Mercedes and Byleth could stand Hubert. But it was not her place to say anything, lest her tongue be pulled for her bluntness. The same could be said for Ingrid and Dorothea as they passed through the hall. Overhearing the Black Mage caused sweats to fly out of their head.

“Isn’t he interesting…” Dorothea remarked as they walked to the bar.

Ingrid shrugged. “I’ve never truly understood Hubert. But he really cares for Edelgard, so I could understand that part of him.”

“Oh?” Dorothea smiled. “So, who do you really care for then?”

The Dragoon felt her cheeks brighten. “Don’t make me spell it for you!” she said. Her girlfriend still eyed her, albeit with that sly grin running across her face. That twinkle in her eyes… and those rosy blushes on her face… Gosh, she looked so cute. Ingrid’s face became red as beet and grumbled, “...it’s you, okay.”

“You should be more honest with me,” Dorothea took her hands. Their fingers intertwined, the Scholar leaning in close to Ingrid’s ear. “The night is still young. Let’s get something to drink and have some fun together.”

“Someone needs to stay sober in case anything happens.”

“Relax~ We have our comrades with us.”

“And what if someone sees us like this?” Ingrid tried to retract her hand. “I… I can’t face my family if they saw us together— Mmmfgh!?”

Dorothea silenced her with a kiss. Luckily, for Ingrid’s sake, they were alone in the hallway, not a soul in sight, save it for those inside of the inn’s bedrooms. When they parted, the Dragoon nearly exploded in pink from embarrassment. She opened her mouth, but was quickly greeted with another kiss.

“Babe, you worry too much,” Dorothea whispered into her lips and smoothed her blonde locks back. Their foreheads touching, she said, “Remember what I told you?”

“...about my family?”

“Yes.”

“Then, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

If anything, this would be Dorothea’s turn to protect Ingrid. The two women eventually parted and held hands, continuing their trip to the bar. To their luck, once again, no one other than themselves was present this late in the day for the bar. Then again, Ishgardians never spent much on alcohol, the Foundation’s civilians intent on using money to keep warm for another night.

At the guest room on the farthest end of the hall, it was a private room reserved for Byleth and Edelgard.

They laid on the same bed despite there being another in this dark room. She rested her hand on the back of Byleth’s head, touching her teal hair, which had always been disheveled. The Warrior looked down as her older girlfriend pressed her face into her modest breasts. She inhaled deeply, the faint scent of carnation present, then exhaled, the heat seeping into Edelgard’s chest. Edelgard’s hand transitioned to her head, gently scratching.

Byleth sighed and tightened her hug, their legs tangled with each other.

“Byleth, were you scared from seeing Bahamut again?”

“...yeah.”

A week may have passed, but to Byleth, the event that occurred reawoken a fear that should have stayed buried. Ever since that morning, the Warrior of Light’s nightmare returned.

The dreams plagued her every night. In those dreams, she watched the good times slip through her fingers, morphing into the bloodfest of those that died or disappeared during the Seventh Umbral Calamity. And they all screamed, cried, and begged for her.

She startled Edelgard with a scream their first night together. Hubert, Mercedes, and Felix hurried to their room with their weapons drawn in response.

It was a false alarm. But it wasn’t for Edelgard and Byleth.

Each day remained the same. Their lifestyle hadn’t changed drastically. If anything, nothing had occurred. But before they went to bed, Edelgard noticed Byleth cracking open her worn journal, details during her time before this new era came to be. Day by day, for this entire week, she continued her endeavors in secrecy, putting it away in her pouch once Edelgard entered the room. It was a way to keep up her image as a reliable teacher and girlfriend.

Edelgard nestled her face into the Samurai’s head after lulling Byleth to sleep. The head scratched slowly transitioned to gently scratching her back, the teal-haired woman eased into her sleep. Her breathing slowed, and Edelgard closed her eyes.

“If only there’s something I could do for you…” she murmured.

Yet just like Dimitri said, only time could tell, and they can only wait for what tomorrow has in store for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Up next is a Marianne x Hilda focus! Since I'm close to finishing Shadowbringers, I'm likely going to move at a faster pace with this AU. Though I'm likely going to flesh out the characters for A Realm Reborn and Heavensward for a bit.


End file.
